reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: two artists tuesday


by 1 Comment

at home. with dogga. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

bundled up in down vests and gloves, we were finished the cleaning-up of the backyard, readying it for winter. though we are reluctant to face the winter, it feels good to tuck away the adirondacks and the gravity chairs, the rugs made of recycled plastic straws, the firepit and the little wrought iron glass table. as i cleared leaves off the deck to make it easier for my wonderful husband to shovel future snows, i stumbled across this bit of evergreen. fallen from our spruce tree, it reminded me immediately of the little tree we – years ago – had brought home from aspen: “ditch”, named after our favorite trail there, a profoundly emotional place for us.

i brought it inside.

it now has a place of regal importance on the bistro table – the place we tend to sit for happy hour, for dinner. with windows overlooking the backyard, we can watch the waning light and review our day, dogga at our feet, for he loves the cool floor of the sunroom.

we won’t be traveling this holiday season. our old dogga is now a senior dog and as we watch him – in his slowingdown – we are dedicated to being witness to these days with him. it’s not like we wouldn’t like to drive – or maybe, even fly – to visit relatives or friends or go on an adventure, but it is definitely that we don’t want to leave him.

dogga’s presence has been a constant for us in the entirety of our living-together. his steady amber gaze, his unbridled enthusiasm, his quirks – they are all a distinct element of our life. he steadfastly helped us through all the – interesting – transitions in this decade plus. and so, we are committed to being by his side, honoring him in his aging, in his challenges and his ever-growing list of quirks. we want to hold space with him.

and so things like a bit of evergreen, like a strand of happy lights tucked inside the chiminea in the corner of the sunroom, like fluffy pillows on the glider in the living room – they are tiny ways to really enjoy our home during a time we will spend most of it not away, most of it at home.

like babycat, dogga has many theme songs, which we sing for him. “dogga-dogga, you’re the one. do-do-do-do. dogga-dogga, so much fun. do-do-do-do. dogga-dogga, in the sun. do-do-do-do. dogga-dogga, number one.”

he doesn’t require brilliant lyricism nor originality. his joy is pretty simple. kind of like a bit of spruce in a little glass vase.

“dogga-dogga, puddin’ and pie, mom and dad love you as big as the sky.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

the delicate things. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

and there are things – here and there – as i continue to muster what i need to go through everything – things i find – things that must be considered delicate, things that must be held gently.

they are not the delicate things that one would label fragile, nor the delicate things that one would think of as valuable. they are the unexpected, the morsels of real life, of real moments, moments felt, moments lived.

there was the torn piece of paper – torn from a decades-old church bulletin – with the first notes of the first piece recorded on my first album.

there was the last physical mother’s day card i received from my girl, before everything went text and digital.

there was the note in little-boy pencil-writing from my boy, filled with hearts.

there’s a small green ceramic compass – just a trinket – i put on my piano.

there is a tiny stick person my big brother made of electrical wire.

there is the (very) ripped sweatshirt jacket i wore driving thousands of miles, criss-crossing the country in busy performing days.

there are the old notebooks. when the kiddos were here, it was my son who first spotted the spiral notebook. it was in a stack of spirals on a shelf in the office upstairs. but this one was sticking out enough he could see his handwritten name on the front cover. he immediately pulled it out to look at it, wondering aloud, “what’s this??” the notebook was empty – all the pages were blank and he asked why we had it in this stack, just as my daughter pulled one out with her name on it. “because we repurpose and there’s still paper in these, so we like to use them so we aren’t wasteful. plus they were yours…it connects me back,” i answered. i would never think of just throwing these out, without using up the paper still in them. it’s a total joy for me to use a notebook that has one of my children’s handwriting on it.

now, there are other things too. there are decorative plates and leaded crystal vessels, vases and wooden carvings, pieces of silverware, scandinavian artifacts, vintage ornaments. i’m guessing some of these items have a little bit of value, maybe – though i don’t imagine a lot. and that’s really ok.

for the things i am finding i hold most gently – the most delicately – are the realest things i come across: the list of homemade candles and tiny cacti i sold door to door when growing up, pulling a wagon behind me around the neighborhood, an early entrepreneur at ten or so. the handwritten notes from my mom or dad, pompom-ing me. the drawings and writings of the girl and the boy. the rocks – so many rocks – i come across, knowing that i chose each one for a reason, for a place, for certain minutes i spent. the earliest lyrics i wrote, the poems from my tree, the bits and pieces of me from a very long time ago, on a different trajectory, giddy and cells-vibrating, in a world i wholeheartedly trusted.

there are many, many things in our house – just like in your house. we try to surround ourselves with the stuff that makes us feel comfort, that makes us happy, that brings us a bit of peace.

in this part of our lives, we are finding that those things are not valuable antiques, newly-purchased tchotchkes or expensive collectibles, top-of-the-line anything. they are the things with story, the things we can carry without burdensome weight, the things that connect us – our dots – back and forward. they are the things that distinguish us from all the rest – our morsels – these relics. they are the delicate things, for without them, we would not be who we were or who we are.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

snowdog. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

dogga must have known. he woke us up well before the sun: it was time for his breakfast, for our coffee, for him to go out and about in the backyard. but it was still dark and the sun still had some coming-up to do.

he must have known, though. somehow, in his dogga-dogga heart, he knew it had snowed. not a lot of snow, really, truly, just a little, a dusting. but snow, nonetheless. and snow is one of his absolute favorite things in the whole wide world. snow is his favorite season. snow is his glory.

so he must have known.

it is a bitterly cold morning as i write this over the weekend. i jump up to go push the heat up over the frost-zone mark. i am a frugal thermostat-monger. more layers, i think, more layers.

last night – after a long day of painting some vintage furniture and walls (yes, also technically vintage) we snuggled under a blanket with our (yeeesh – matching) red-and-black buffalo plaids and some thick socks to watch other people pick out homes on hgtv. dogga – rejecting the bit of heat generated by laying on the area rug in the living room – stayed on the sunroom’s tile floor. he could feel the cold building outside, i guess. temperatures dropping and his spirits soaring.

and he must have known, somehow, about the imminent snow. (which, by the way, turned out to be about 12″ (!!) here on the lakefront.)

he is truly our wonder-dog. in every way.

and he knows it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

on dirt. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

this is the best place to think. it’s the best place to ponder, to wonder, to sort, or to just – simply – take one step after another. it’s the best place to be quiet and the best place to have conversation. we link arms. we walk. and walk. and walk. we can see why pct hikers keep on going. it is cleansing and powerful. and your body feels the world, your tactile connection with the universe, your feet on dirt.

in a moment i won’t easily forget, i recently had a chance to be forehead to forehead with a horse. we stood that way together for several minutes and i could feel his breath on my face. with both of us – boots and hooves on dirt – connected by touch, i could feel the rest of the universe gently holding space, woven in tapestry with us, close by. powerful moments.

particularly in these times, for more reasons than you will imagine, i am finding the reminder of this connection to the universe to be of comfort. particularly in these times, when there is little to comfort us here in this country, i am finding the reminder of this connection to the universe to be bigger than any story of our land – it overarches the evil intention of stories personal and of the populace. particularly in these times, with so little promise of goodness, so little accountability, so little compassion, so little attention to truth-telling, i am finding the reminder of this connection to the universe to be steadying.

i will keep my feet on the dusty dirt of the trail. i will take any chance to share forehead space with another living creature. i will remember how connected – interconnected – i am with this universe. i will draw hope from that.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

that place. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i couldn’t begin to guess how many times i have sat on that beach. i couldn’t begin to describe all the life i have navigated there, all the pondering i have pondered, all the sun and the snow and the rain, the early dawns, the inky skies i have shared with that place. in the mystery that connects you to certain places, it was always my go-to.

and the mystery continues.

we shared time with that beach again. profound time. time wherein i stood by the water’s edge talking to the universe. once again, feet in that sand, touching that water, eyes to that sky.

some of the benches just off the boardwalk have been there forever. the curve of the metal arm, the weather-worn wooden seat – familiar touchstones that date back and back. the seagulls diving, riding the waves, rising in air currents and dropping crabshells to the ground – their caws lodged in memory.

this is not the island’s finest. there are many beaches with less rocks, fewer shells, more shoreline, softer sand, less seaweed, stronger surf. but this is the one.

i left a piece of me – a free-to-be–crazy-with-potential–wildflower-growing piece – behind on this island.

and so i thought that maybe – just maybe – i could go put my feet on this very sand, touch this very water, drink in this very salt air to both reclaim that piece and set it free.

there was no drumroll, no hoopla, no folderol. there were no fireworks or lightning bolts.

as the wind became gusty and it got colder, i merely turned reluctantly away from the water’s edge.

he was waiting for me about halfway up the beach and he held me as i stood in that very sand under that very sun, taking it all in, grateful.

we walked arm in arm to the benches and sat on the oldest one.

it was a long time before we left.

but not before i wrote my name in the sand.

and not before i held her hand – that wildflower.

“i got you,” i told her.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

grasshopper, grasshopper. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

jeffie used to use the term “grasshopper” a lot. not really understanding any reference, i always took it to be a term of affection.

in the middle of the middle of stuff we are in the middle of, we took a hike. we always see tiny grasshoppers on the dusty trail – hopping in just the last second and flying away – like small moths zipping past us.

but this day – in the middle of the middle of stuff we are in the middle of – there were Grasshoppers – capital G. never had we seen hoppers this big on any part of this lengthy trail. they didn’t just hop away upon feeling the vibrations of our feet on dirt. they stood their ground.

i bent down to share a few moments with this one. after communing with it, i urged it to jump off the beaten path, trying to save its life from zealous bikers also on trail.

for the first time, i looked up what jeffie’s “grasshopper” reference might be. and it all made sense, reading that kung fu (from the 70s tv series i never watched) used it – yes, affectionately – to convey to his students etc “a message of growth and learning”.

this differential grasshopper grinned at me as i bent down, posing for the camera. he turned and looked down the dusty gravel trail. and then he turned back to me for a few moments before i urged him on, away from potential danger.

“you got this,” he whispered. “keep going. you may feel small and it may feel bigger, but we both have abundant power. i can only go forward. you can jump with me.”

i heard him as he took off with a giant hop for the underbrush, “remember! leap!.”

today is a good day for grasshoppers.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

attentively attentive. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the headline on the catalog page read: don’t just go somewhere. be somewhere.

i lounged in the gravity chair on our deck and looked up. just beyond the peaked roof of our house, inbetween the pine tree and our westneighbor’s tv antenna, with the wire that stretches across our driveway stretched right through it, there it was:

the clouds had drawn the sun. exactly like i would have done it had i had big fat sidewalk chalk in my hand and i was drawing on the breezy jet-streamed canvas of the sky: an arc for the sun, rays coming from the hot center. it was obvious, clear, pretty doggone cool.

i grabbed the phone to take a picture and, before it disappeared as if someone had lifted the cellophane on a magic slate, drew it to d’s attention. we were both a tiny bit giddy at this small gift in the sky.

and that’s how i want to live. being somewhere. in each moment.

with all the horrific going on, it is not hard to wonder about time limits on presence.

so – in addition to paying attention, to drawing attention, to downright attentiveness attention to all of that horrific – i’m going to pay attention, draw attention, be downright attentively attentive to being here.

wherever here is at the moment.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

rising mint. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

planted in a barnwood planter – one that is split in half where the top half balances on the bottom half – I have been tending this mint all summer. we have used it in suntea all through these months. it’s made a few appearances in quinoa tabouli. and then.

then – all of a sudden – it went dormant. the stems were leggy and leafless. it seemed done. i snipped it all back, tossing the dried stems behind the potting stand, and i resolved to buy mint for the remainder of the suntea season. and then.

then – all of sudden – there it was. a few new sprigs and a few more. yesterday, i picked mint for the fresh jug of tea and took a few pictures of the new lush green leaves.

petsitter ann had told us to beware – that the mint would take over the garden were we to plant it in the ground. so we heeded her advice and chose this planter instead. i’ve already decided it will be the mint planter again next year. because we will surely need mint again next year.

we’ll need it so that we can watch its zealous growth – bursting from the very beginning, right out of the nursery pot.

we’ll need it for our cool tea, for our tabouli, for the zucchini parmesan pasta dish.

we’ll need it to gauge the hot sun and the water levels of our other plants – it responds to changes in weather and moisture, giving us good indicators for tending our other herbs as well.

we’ll need it to watch firsthand something that, well, just isn’t very fussy about stuff.

and we’ll need it to remind ourselves of the regenerative power of spirit – that even if something seems passé, even if something seems dried-up – done – out-of-season – even if something seems downright irrelevant – there is still an ever-lit pilot light.

the mint will rise again.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

28 square feet. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

this brings me joy – stepping into this tiny little corner garden. each year it has been a place to wonder, to learn, to dream, to envision bounty. tiny as it is, it is a place of abundance and, even as autumn falls, i cherish its every bit of 28 square feet.

the parsley and the basil are still producing – they graced our homemade tomato soup last night. there are a few jalapeños left, still growing. the dill has dulled; the mint has faded. the cilantro has bolted time and again, despite my best efforts to convince it otherwise. the cherry tomatoes are ripening on the vine and the rosemary is a small tree. i suspect the rosemary will make its way inside for the winter. it all makes me think of next year’s planting – adding sweet potatoes in planters, more tomatoes, maybe a few other vegetables. it’s all been a lesson in embracing something new. it is a tiny space of zen.

we are considering some changes as we look around our house. in the cleaning-out mode, less and less is necessary. clearing away a child’s desk, a lateral file, unused appliances or electronics…it’s all fodder for the space we need – particularly in these times – for cherished quiet, for serenity. i am finding there is a direct connection between the more clear space and the more breath. it will take some time, as it has taken decades to acquire so many things. but we have time and, i believe, we have the wherewithal to go through our house, room by room, and invite in a sagefilled peace.

it’s really all about intention. though we do not live in a vast home and are not surrounded by vast acreage, we bring an intention to our home that is purposeful. as we move from room to room, slowly parsing out the unnecessary from the necessary or the wanteds, slowly replacing items with other items or replacing items with air-and-space, we tend to how it feels. we want to create a space in which we feel comforted, supported, valued. we want to create a space in which others feel comforted, supported, valued. we want a place filled with soul and acceptance of the inbetween moments in all of life.

today we’ll make a batch of pesto. as i look at the basil plants, i figure it will likely be the last batch this season. oh, there will be a bit for our homemade margherita pizzas, but not in real quantity. so we’ll go slow. snipping and rinsing, chopping and grating. we’ll talk about our garden – truly, for the umpteenth time. we’ll relish the pungent aroma of freshly-picked basil in the house.

and we’ll stand in the kitchen – looking at each other – with tears in our eyes – astonished at our good fortune.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

little. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we had all but given up.

pretty much each year – for years – we have had a frog in our pond out back.

but this year there was simply nothing.

to say we were disappointed would understate how much these frogs have meant to us. we were pretty sad and wondered if we had done something that had inhibited a frog from choosing our tiny pond as a summer home.

until a few days ago.

d had seen a glimpse of green hopping in the water a few days prior, but we could not tiptoe up to the pond quietly enough to see it sunning on a rock or watching the world go by, tucked into a nook or cranny. we thought it was simply a momentary visit.

on thursday, though, we had a lucky day. and, as we stood quietly at the side of our pond, scouring the edges for a sighting of a frog, there he was.

little.

we named him “little” not at all having to do with his import to us, but because he seemed one of the smallest frogs to have lived in our pond.

you would have thought we had found gold coins hidden in the rocks of our water feature – our excitement was off the charts.

and – because every frog needs a theme song – i could instantly hear his in my head (sung to the tune of sugar, sugar by the archies): little – ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba/ oh, little little ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba/ you are our tiny frog/ and you got us hop-hoppin. (etc etc etc)

each year has brought a different reason to look for the meaning of a frog’s visit in our personal world. each year the resilience and transformation, renewal and abundance messages have been positive bits of symbolism for us and have made us feel that grace has dropped in for a visit.

this year is no different. little’s appearance has been like a single candle lit in a dark night – a warm glow, a talisman for reflection and hope.

we never know how long the frog will stay. but we do know that just making an appearance is a gift. for our small pond – in the middle of other suburban yards of grass and gardens – is maybe 18 square feet – and it seems fortuitous that a tiny frog would even find it.

but maybe somewhere in frogland there is a list…and frogs can check it – like airbnb – to see where they might find a little pond they can call their own. or maybe where it is they may be named and doted upon. or maybe where it is they might get their own theme song.

we hope little hangs around for a while.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.